Letting Go
by x.imagine.x
Summary: Blair goes to Chuck's suite after a few days of not hearing from him after his father's death. Blair/Chuck


**A/N: Alright, just warning you now, if you have not watched episode 2.12 or 2.13, this contains at least one major spoiler!!! This is my opinion on what happens after the ending. That said, please enjoy.**

* * *

**LETTING GO**

The room was dark and smelled strongly of alcohol. Blair's eyebrows pulled together in a concerned frown as she walked quietly towards the only indication of life in the hotel room. The television was on, and Blair stopped in surprise when she saw what was playing on it. As she watched who she assumed to be a younger Bart Bass twirling a beautiful woman in a white dress around on a wooden dance floor. They were smiling broadly and Blair watched as Bart pulled the woman close and kissed her softly, lovingly. She had never seen Bart so happy before. She'd always seen the older Bass man as a robot, with no emotions whatsoever.

"It was their wedding night," His voice sounded from somewhere in the darkness. He knew it was her. Blair's eyes closed in pain as she exhaled at hearing how broken he sounded. Chuck was second only to his father in the robot department. She'd never seen him express any emotion. The pain in his voice was almost unbearable. "The only time I've ever seen evidence of him being happy."

Blair bit her lip and walked a little closer to the couch. She saw the outline of his slouched over, unkempt form. _Damn,_ she thought, _I never should have listened to Serena. I should have used that key when she gave it me._ Blair took another step forward. Chuck took another swig of his scotch. He didn't make another effort to speak, and silence hung in the air as the dance ended and everyone applauded. Bart and the young woman kissed once more before the screen went blank. Chuck didn't move. Blair sighed and approached the couch, where she took in the full extent of Chuck's state. His hair was messy, he was still wearing the pants and shirt he'd worn to the Snowflake Ball. Judging by the three empty and two full scotch and tequila bottles beside him, the glass in his hand hadn't moved since then either.

She sighed and reached for the three empty bottles, removing them from the table and placing them in a black trash bag on the bar. She next went back and grabbed the two full ones. She moved them away and moved back towards the couch. Chuck still hadn't moved. Blair moved to take the glass from his hand, but his grip tightened. Her lips pressed together in irritation.

"Leave it," He snapped.

She rolled her eyes, "How much have you had to drink?"

"Not enough."

She tried again, but he maintained his grip.

"Chuck!" She said in a warning tone laced with weariness. He didn't respond. She sighed and moved in front of him. He sat slouched against the back of the couch with his legs spread lazily apart, his left hand holding the scotch glass that rested upon his left leg. She knelt in front of him, placing her hands gently on his knees. He stiffened slightly, as though he was uncomfortable. She moved her hands slowly up his legs, eyeing the glass in his hand. She reached the glass and gently pried it from his hand. He let it go. Blair exhaled as she placed the glass on the table beside the couch. He still didn't look.

Blair reached up slowly to touch his cheek with her right hand, but he jerked his head away, and she withdrew her hand, stung.

"Please leave." He said coldly.

"Look, Chuck, I know you're hurt, but you can't just sit here. Lily, Serena, Nate and Eric have been worried. I've been worried," She said softly, trying to get him to look at her.

"Leave."

"No," Blair frowned stubbornly.

"Get out."

"No." She stated more firmly.

"Get out!" He finally yelled, glaring at her, but not quite looking her in the eyes. Blair flinched away from him, reminded of the way Chuck had blown up at Lily in the hospital that night.

"_If you hadn't been poised to hop in bed with Humphrey this never would have happened!"_

"I blamed Lily," Chuck finally spoke softly, "But it wasn't her fault."

Blair shook her head slightly, "No, it wasn't."

"It was mine."

"What?" Blair asked, recoiling even more in shock, "Chuck, this wasn't your fault."

"Yes. It was." his hand twitched as though he wanted to lift the scotch glass that was no longer there to his lips.

"Why on earth would you think that?"

"Because it was my fault he was coming there in the first place. I called him and told him to come. I'm the reason his car was coming to the Ball. I'm the reason he crashed."

"No, you weren't. You weren't the one driving. You weren't even there."

Chuck remained silent.

Blair stared up at him. Suddenly, he flicked his eyes to hers.

"How does it feel to sitting in the same room as a murderer?" He drawled out.

"I'm not."

"Yes, you are. I killed both of my parents. I'm a murderer."

"Chuck…" Blair tried to reach out her hand to him again, "No, you're not. You aren't responsible for either of your parents' deaths!"

He pushed her hand away, and jerked up off the couch.

"Yes, I am! I'm a murderer dammit! I called my dad and told him to come to the ball! His car crashed on the way there! My mother died giving birth to me! I killed them! What the hell kind of son does that, Blair? What the hell kind of monster does that?"

"You're not a monster!" Blair stood, approaching him slowly.

"Why can't you see it? I'm a fucking monster! I killed them!" He knocked over a lamp. Knocking started at the door. She'd forgotten Serena was outside waiting.

"B? B, are you okay?" Her best friend's voice called through the door.

Chuck was still on the warpath. He attacked the bar, smashing the empty alcohol bottles. He kept smashing anything that looked remotely breakable. Blair just stood and watched, powerless. Serena's knocking had grown much more persistent.

"B?! B answer me!" Her voice was panicky now.

Finally, Chuck stopped and stared at his hand. Blair didn't realize why until she saw the blood dripping from it. She gasped and picked her way as quickly as she could through the glass littered floor. She reached him and grabbed his hand to inspect the gash.

"Come on, you have to get that cleaned up," She said at last. He didn't protest as she pulled him along to the bathroom.

"_Blair!_" Serena was full-out pounding on the door now.

"We're fine, S!" She called back before continuing to the washroom and asking him where the first aid kit was. He looked at her with a blank expression. She bit her lip, she hated that lifeless, dull look. It was so far from the Chuck she knew. She searched through the cabinets for anything resembling a bandage. Chuck leaned against the wall while she searched. Eventually, she located the kit, and pulled it out.

Chuck didn't resist as she took his hand and pulled him over to the sink to rinse the cut out. Next, she retrieved the bottle of antiseptic.

"This is going to hurt," She warned, but he didn't so much as flinch. Blair thought she may have caught a slight increase in his breathing rate, but other than that, he was fine. She grabbed the roll of gauze and bandages and carefully tied it around his hand. He was completely catatonic through all this.

After everything was done, Chuck returned to leaning against the wall, a lost look in his eyes. Blair replaced the first aid kit, and when she turned back to look at Chuck, he had slid down the wall and was sitting on the floor, his head in his hands, elbows propped on his knees. The heels of his hands dug into his eyes, as though trying to push them out the back of his head, but Blair knew what he was doing, because she'd done it so many times before.

She knelt before him, and pulled his hands away from his face. His eyes were red, and he avoided her gaze. She placed a hand on either side of his face, forcing him to look at her.

"It's okay," She said softly. His head bowed as sobs threatened to rack his body. He was still trying to hide it. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer, into something foreign to him: a hug. His head fit into the crook of her neck, his arms found their way to wrap under hers and he clung to her as though his life depended on it. As she rested her chin comfortingly on his head, he finally let go.

* * *

**A/N: So… what did you think?**


End file.
